"It's awfully good of you to have told me this."

"Pray don't mention it! Hullo! What's up now?"

John's face was very red, and his fists were clenched.

"Nothing," he gasped. "Only this--I'd like to kill Scaife. I'd like to cut off his infernal head."

The Caterpillar laughed indulgently. "Jonathan, you're a rum 'un. You think it wicked to play cards on Sunday; but you would like"--he imitated John's trembling, pa.s.sionate voice--"you would like to cut off Scaife's infernal head."

"Yes--I would," said John.

That same week he had a memorable talk with Warde; recorded because it ill.u.s.trates Warde's methods, and because, ultimately, it came to be regarded by John as the turning-point of his intellectual life. Since he had taken the Lower Remove, John's energies of mind and body had been concentrated upon improving himself at games. Vaguely aware that some of the School-prizes were within his grasp, he had not deemed them worth the winning. To him, therefore, Warde abruptly began--

"You pride yourself upon being straight--eh, Verney?"

"Why, yes," said John, meeting Warde's blue eyes not without misgiving.

"Well, to me, you're about as straight as a note of interrogation. I never see you without saying to myself, 'Is Verney going to bury his talents in the cricket-ground?'"

"Oh!"

"Some parents, too many of them, send their boys here to make a few nice friends, to play games, to sc.r.a.pe up the School with a remove once a year. That, I take it, is not what Mrs. Verney wants?"

"N--no, sir."

"You ought to be in the Sixth--and you know it. Twice, or oftener, you have deliberately taken things easy, because you wanted a soft time of it during the summer term, and because you wished to remain in the same form with Desmond, who, intellectually, is your--inferior. Is that square dealing with your people?"

John was silent, but red of countenance. Warde went on, more vehemently--

"I know all about your co-operative system of work. I have a harder name for it. And I know just what you can do, and I want to see you do it, for your own sake, for the sake of Mrs. Verney, and for the Hill's sake.

I've pushed you on at cricket a bit, haven't I? Yes. You owe me something. Pay up by entering for a School-prize, and winning it!"

"A School-prize?"

"Yes; Lord Charles Russell's Shakespeare Medal. The exam. is next October. I'll coach you. Is it a bargain?"

He held out his hand, staring frankly, but piercingly, into John's eyes.

"All right, sir," said John, after a pause. "I'll try."

"And buck up for your remove."

John smiled feebly, and sighed.

FOOTNOTES:

[27] There is a tablet on the wall of the Old Schools which bears the following inscription:--Near this spot ANTHONY ASHLEY COOPER Afterwards the 7th Earl of Shaftesbury, K.G. While yet a boy in Harrow School Saw with shame and indignation The pauper's funeral Which helped to awaken his lifelong Devotion to the service of the poor And the oppressed.

CHAPTER IX

_Black Spots_

"The Avon bears to endless years A magic voice along, Where Shakespeare strayed in Stratford's shade, And waked the world to song.

We heard the music soft and wild, We thrilled to pulses new; The winds that reared the Avon's child Were Herga's[28] nurses too."

That evening John told Caesar what Warde had said to him, and then added, "I mean to have a shot at 'the Swan of Avon.'" Caesar looked glum.

"But how about the remove? We'd agreed to stay in the Second Fifth till Christmas. It's the jolliest form in the school."

"If we put our backs--and heads--into Trials,[29] we can easily get a remove."

"Blow Trials."

John turned aside.

"Look here, Jonathan," said Caesar, eagerly. "To please me, give up your swatting scheme. We can't spoil the end of this jolly term."

He caught hold of John's arm, squeezing it affectionately. Never had our hero been so sorely tempted.

"We must stick together, you and I," entreated Desmond.

"No," said John.

"As you please," Caesar replied coldly.

A detestable week followed. John tackled his Shakespeare alone, working doggedly. Then, quite suddenly, the giant gripped him. He had always possessed a remarkable memory, and as a child he had learnt by heart many pa.s.sages out of the plays (a fact well known to the crafty Warde); but these he had swallowed without digesting them. Now he became keen, the keener because he met with violent opposition from the Caterpillar and the Duffer, who were of opinion that Shakespeare was a "back number."

John won the prize, and on the following Speech Day saw his mother's face radiant with pride and happiness, as he received the Medal from the Head Master's hands.

"You look as pleased as if I'd got my Flannels," said John.

"Surely this Medal is a greater thing?"

"Oh, mum, you don't know much about boys."

"Perhaps not, but," her eyes twinkled, "I know something about Shakespeare, and he's a friend that will stand by you when cricketing days are over."

"If you're pleased, so am I," said John.

Scaife got his Flannels; and at Lord's his fielding was mentioned as the finest ever seen in a Public School match. John witnessed the game from the top of the Trent coach, and he stopped at Trent House. But he didn't enjoy his exeat, because he knew that Caesar was in trouble. Caesar owed Scaife thirteen pounds, and the fact that this debt could not be paid without confession to his father was driving him distracted. Scaife, it is true, laughed genially at Caesar's distress. "Settle when you please,"

he said, "but for Heaven's sake, don't peach to your governor! Mine would laugh and pay up; yours will pay up and make you swear not to touch another card while you're at Harrow."